I’m not feeling productive today. I know what I need to do. I don’t want to do it. I’m tired and grumpy and I have a distinct lack of caring.

I’ve been reading other home school blogs. It is going to be very weird for me over the next fifteen years that most of the people I have the most in common with are extremely Christian or rabidly atheist. I don’t seem to have stuff in common with moderate people. This is a little odd because I have a lot of hang-ups about the Christians.

If someone tells me they are home schooling because Christ told them to I figure they don’t want to talk to me. I’m not home schooling my kids because Christ told me to. I’m home schooling my kids because I am a selfish daughter of a bitch and I want to enjoy every single minute of their life and not let some other asshole get the benefit of all those smiles. Yup, I’m that selfish.

I love that I get to watch what they do all day. I get to know what they like and don’t like. I get to benefit from how gosh darn nice and polite they are.

If you take the faith part out of the equation I am very much trying to raise my kids in a way that is consistent with the religious home schoolers we know. I believe in being polite to people. I believe in learning that your needs are not the only ones in the room–how do you learn how to anticipate and accommodate needs other than your own? I do not want my children exposed to the idiocy of most modern curriculum. I know how they are created and I flat don’t approve.

Sometimes it feels like what I am doing must be a sin. It must be a crime for me to pull my kids out of the herd. They are not going to be just like the neighbors. We have a relatively homogeneous sort of neighborhood. We are distinctly at the edge of the bell curve in a variety of ways.

I am going to educate my kids. They will know a freakish range of things. They will understand a lot about the world. Will they be normal? Almost certainly not. But we’ll see.

I want to know what people are like when they are protected from the awful of life but are continually exposed to the fact of their own protection and privilege. My kids are incredibly fucking privileged. What will that mean to them? Will they grow up like their dad and my shaman who get very angry about the word because it sounds to them like “Everyones opinion but mine matters”?

I go back and forth with this American idea of “boot-strapping” yourself out of poverty. Some folks think I did. I think I had $1200/month tax free until I was thirty because of an unfortunate incident when a pit bull ripped part of my face off. I don’t feel I can call myself a boot-strapper with a straight face. I had support. I didn’t have family support and that is what people expect if you have support.

What would life be like if all young people had an equal amount of support? John Holt believes that the government should guarantee a small income in the name of all citizens. You don’t have to claim it if you don’t need it–if your parents do adequately you can choose to not ask for it.

Actually how awesome would it be if even the rich kids were cut off at 18? What would it be like if every 18 year old in America had the same salary and access to education? How would that change things? It is an interesting thought exercise.

I can’t change everything. I can’t change society. All I can do is change my family.

I feel haunted by this whole family tradition thing. People tend to pass down traits and behaviors and activities and hobbies. That’s how families work.

Suicide and incest go back generations. What does that mean? How broken are we to start with? Most of the research on how damaging such lives are on a DNA-level says that the damage can be mostly repaired by excellent parenting. Am I managing? My children are not anxious. My children have very few fears and anxieties. They are extremely connected and secure.

My children have never been seriously hit. I have hit Shanna on the foot a few times when she kicked me but it wasn’t hard enough to hurt her foot or my hand and I apologized. I was deflecting her from hurting me so I don’t feel that bad. I think those kinds of contact are part of life.

I am scary sometimes. I have broken things in front of them. You aren’t supposed to do that. When I break something my kids say, “Rats! Good thing it is easy to fix!” It is just… automatic. My children believe I can fix anything. My kids are not afraid of me. When I am acting in a scary way Shanna has told me, “Mom you are scaring me and that has to stop.” I told her she was right. I thanked her for telling me. I don’t want to scare you. If I scare you then I am doing it wrong. I love you so much.

I feel so much guilt for being as limited as I am. I sometimes think longingly of working. More money! Time when I’m not being pawed! But I think I would hate it. I think I would have way less patience for the kids. At this point my kids get to have ~80% of the patience I have in this world. If I had a job they would get less and that would be bad. I would not be very nice.

I see my friends hold down jobs and be good mothers. I feel ashamed of myself. I cannot be like any of you. I don’t have enough to give in this lifetime. I wish I had somewhere to go every day where lots of people appreciated what I did and needed my help. But most people don’t have that experience from work. Work sucks. So I opt out because I have this overwhelming privilege.

It is a privilege to be as functional while not-very functional as I am. I have luxury and help. I have money. Let us not under rate the very important function of knowing that I am financially safe. I check www.mint.com every day. I am very aware of our financial position. I feel very annoyed with myself for not having more self-discipline and saving a higher percentage of Noah’s income. But we already run into a lot of awkward because our friends spend money differently and it makes it hard to do things with people.

My life is set up around doing work and mostly playing for free with my kids. We play at parks and at peoples houses. Somewhere with an admission fee is way less interesting.  If we have to pay to play a bunch of games it is pretty much a guarantee that we won’t be playing any games. We can watch. It’s ok.

Our money is going into our house. If my kids resent that, well… I don’t owe you endless trips to a bounce house. That’s not a god-given right. If you resent me for my choices you will just be joining the legions of children who came before you. *shrug*

I tell my children more or less every day, “It is not my job nor my responsibility to entertain you. One of the most important things you need to do in this lifetime is figure out how to make your own fun. If I do it for you then you will never learn.”

I wonder if one of these days if I will start tracking my mood more carefully during the month. I started bleeding yesterday. The week before that I cried all the god damn time–well, any time I wasn’t being looked at by another person. I have a paranoid “oh shit someone is looking at me” switch where I can turn it off. When they turn away the tears start again.

Yesterday I felt crampy and slow and lethargic but more numb than bad. I didn’t cry until I was going to sleep. That’s pretty good for me.